


Merry Chrismoose

by NaughtyPastryChef



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Come play, Dirty Talk, First Time, Flirting, Gift Fic, M/M, Not Beta Read, Power Bottom Sam Winchester, Rimming, Top Dean, spot the simpson's reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyPastryChef/pseuds/NaughtyPastryChef
Summary: It all started at a Cracker Barrel. Dean knew he shouldn't buy it but, well, he's never been good at ignoring that voice in his head that said "don't do that." This time, though, it doesn't end up all that bad for him or Sam.A late gift fic for many people.





	Merry Chrismoose

**Author's Note:**

> I could write a story for each one of my amazing friends for Christmas and it would take a year. I cold write to your individual tastes and kinks and preferences. I wish I had the time. However, real life intrudes on my fic-writing time (how rude) so I wrote something that I hope will appeal to all of you. I love each and every one of you and I hope you had a merry whaatever-you-prefer-to-celebrate.

It happened at a Cracker Barrel, of all places. That was where he saw it. That was where Dean sent Sam out to wait in the car while he bought it and paid for their meal. He knew it was kind of stupid. He knew it was ridiculous. And he knew it was encouraging a nickname given by Crowley that Sam didn’t find particularly amusing. He knew all of that and yet he couldn’t stop himself from buying it anyway.

Because he also knew that it would put a smile on his brother’s face. God knew they both deserved a few smiles this year.

Christmas had always been a pieced together affair for them. Gifts, if there were any, were rarely wrapped and usually purchased from the nearest 24-hour mini mart or, more likely, stolen. Christmas dinner was barely palatable prepared food, reheated if they were lucky enough to have a microwave or cold if they didn’t. There was no hot cocoa. No big production. God knows there was never a tree. No singing or telling stories about Santa.

It didn’t bother Dean because he had the vague memories of Christmas with his mother but Sam never had those. He’d see families out doing Christmas things and it would hurt his sensitive soul that they didn’t have that. So Dean did his best but how much, really, can a little kid do to make a holiday special when he didn’t have any grownups to help him.

But this year, this year, was going to be different. They had a home, such as it was, in the bunker. They had a kitchen for him to cook in and a library that would look really nice with a live Christmas tree and some twinkling lights on it. This year, he was going to make Christmas something special. And he came to this decision due to the silly gift that he saw in a Cracker Barrel as he was paying the check for their dinner.

He spent a few days taking the time to fix up one of the antique cars in the bunker’s garage, a pickup truck. He was not going to put a tree in or on his baby. He found an obscure case for Donna, one that would benefit from Sam’s brilliant research skills and still keep him out of harms way and then pretended to be sick so that Sam would travel alone. When Sam had been gone for an hour and Dean knew he was safe to put his plan into action, he nearly ran for the garage and headed into town.

Even though they’d stopped running credit card scams, and it was more difficult now than it ever was to get a fake card, Dean did it one more time to finance his little scheme. He spent hundreds of dollars on Santos L Halper’s card the first day Sam was gone, getting groceries and presents and Christmas decorations. 

Getting the tree from the lot, back to the bunker and set up alone was something he never wanted to do again. He was glad Sam wasn’t there to laugh at the way he cursed at the fucking thing as he struggled to get it into the base and stand up straight, then string lights on it.

After that he popped Die Hard into his laptop and propped it on the table in the kitchen before rolling up his sleeves and trying to bake. Cooking had always come easy for Dean, even with the most basic dishes, but baking was something he hadn’t truly attempted before. By the end of the movie he was covered in flour, cocoa powder and sugar and he had three edible cookies out of three dozen burnt ones. He was disgusted with himself, frustrated and determined to do better tomorrow.

He went to take a shower, watched some bizarrely Christmas themed porn and fell asleep to dreams of a naked Sam wrapped in twinkling Christmas lights  and covered in a dusting of powdered sugar. He woke up confused and yearning for his brother more fiercely than he had in years. He thought he’d left those feelings behind. He looked down at himself, lounging in bed in a way that he never allowed himself to do, and saw that he was hard; not shocking considering the images he’d seen in his dreams. He reached down and gripped his cock, debating if he was going to take his time and tease himself or if he was going to rush through it and get up to get back into the kitchen.

Two strokes in and his phone pinged with an incoming message and that decided it for him; Sam was finishing up and saying goodbye now and would be home in about six hours. Dean bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth and focused on the image of a smiling Sammy, naked and wrapped in tiny twinkling lights. It was over almost embarrassingly quickly.

When Sam finally made it back into the bunker there was a roast in the oven and finally there were two dozen edible and not bad-looking cookies on a plate in the library near the half- decorated tree. There was eggnog chilling in the fridge and whiskey near the cookies. The gift that started everything and a few more were sitting wrapped under Dean’s bed. Everything was ready except Dean who couldn’t shake his morning’s feelings about wanting to change the nature of his relationship with Sam. He was out of time to come to terms with it though, as he heard Sam shut the door behind him and start down the stairs in the map room.

“Dean?”

“In the kitchen Sammy.” He shouted back and resisted the urge to run his hands over his clothes and hair, checking for stray streaks of flour. He turned to poke at the potatoes, bubbling away in their pot and made himself stay facing away as he heard Sam come into the kitchen and take a deep breath.

“What.. Dean, what?” Sam was rarely lost for words and it made Dean smile deeply to know that he could still do that. He turned around and took in the sight of his giant little brother. Long legs encased in second hand brand name jeans, plaid shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders and a look of adorable puzzlement on his handsome face.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

“Merry… Dean it’s not Christmas.” Sam looked frozen in place and more confused than he’d ever been. Dean laughed and turned to switch the potatoes off as he talked.

“Sam it’s December 23rd. I know we don’t pay attention to stuff like this all that much but surely you’ve noticed decorations in store fronts and the way the weather has been colder.” He stayed turned towards the sink, hyper-focused on what he was doing until Sam spoke again.

“Then why are we having dinner tonight? I mean, we could do Christmas ON Christmas, right?” Dean felt his face flush and hoped that it wasn’t too noticeable.

“Just wanted to do something nice, Sammy. If you don’t want it…” He trailed off and let Sam interrupt him. 

“No! I want it, I was just a little I dunno, caught off guard. So what’s for dinner?” Dean turned in time to see Sam grabbing plates from the cupboard and setting them on the table.

“I got roast beef and mashed potatoes and a salad, for your sensitive palate princess. Uh, Don’t set the table in here, set the one in the library near the tree.” The sounds of ceramic slinking stopped and Dean spun around to look at Sam.

“You got us a tree? You… you sent me on that hunt so that you could set all this up, didn’t you?” For the first time since Sam was fifteen, Dean could read neither the look on Sam’s face nor the tone in his voice and it worried him.

“I… yeah, I did. Told you, wanted to do something nice.” He was unprepared for the way Sam put the plates down and crossed the three feet of floor between them to wrap his giant arms around him. Dean tossed the masher back into the pan of potatoes and hugged Sam back. They stood there long enough that their breaths began to sync up. Dean closed his eyes tight and held onto his brother for as long as he could before Sam pulled out of the hug and dropped his arms.

“Best. Brother. Ever.” Sam smiled at him and Dean felt himself melt just a little bit. Sam’s smile had changed over the years, developing from the sweet and shy little boy smile into something more masculine and adult but at that moment, all he could see is his baby brother’s little boy smile, dimples and all, shining.

“Alright, enough Hallmark Christmas movie nonsense. Go set the table.”

\------------------------------------------------------

Sam took the plates and silverware into the library and stopped in his tracks. He’d heard Dean say there was a tree but he was unprepared for the perfect, right-out-of-a-Christmas-card tree that sat, decorated and twinkling next to the library table. He felt humbled that Dean had done so much for him. The fact that Dean went out of his way to get him out of the house and decorate and cook and bake, as he took a look at the slightly misshapen pile of cookies displayed next to a bottle of whiskey, was heartwarming. As he set the plates down in their places and looked up at the tree again, he started to get a little choked up. 

Dean was so good to him.

“I hope you came home hungry Sammy, cause I think I got a bigger roast than I meant to.” Dean came up behind him and he turned to see a giant roast on a platter in the center of the table. He stepped over to his brother and enveloped him in another hug. He felt Dean smile against his shoulder and bit back a sob of over emotional tears.

“Sammy, you big girl. Merry Christmas. Now, c’mon, help me get the rest of the food from the kitchen so we can eat while it’s still hot.”

Dinner was magnificent; Sam was certain he’d never had a better meal. It was made all the better by the smiles and funny stories they shared back and forth. He could tell they were both avoiding the darkness that always managed to creep in when they tended to reminisce. They talked about that horrible Christmas before Dean went to hell but kept it lighthearted. They teased each other about the Christmas when they were in Ohio and Dean wanted to impress some girl at school and had dragged Sam ice-skating, both of them coming home bruised and cold but laughing.

When Dean took the last bite off his plate he sat back in his chair with a smile. He looked at Sam across the table and Sam felt himself get flustered. There was a look on Dean’s face that Sam had only ever seen a few times in their life. It was a look of love and lust. Desire and want yet contentment. Sam tried to let all the same emotions show on his own face. He wanted Dean too. He loved Dean. He desired Dean. All of the things that you could possibly want or need from another human, Sam felt for his brother. 

He sipped his whiskey-laced eggnog and tried to remember when he’d realized it but he couldn’t recall that far back. He knew things now that he hadn’t known then or he might have forced the issue long ago. He knew now that they were soulmates; designed by God himself to be perfect partners. He knew now that they shared a heaven because of that fact. They were destined to be together forever and that was the only thing that mattered, not society’s rules. Not mom or dad. Not heaven and all the angels.  

He very nearly said something but as it was, the evening felt too light and happy for it all to come out at that moment. But they had Christmas eve and Christmas day together. Sam sipped his eggnog again and was content to wait just a little bit longer.

“C’mon, lets get these dishes cleaned up and then we can watch a movie or something.” Dean heaved himself out of his chair and began to grab serving dishes and plates while Sam followed his lead. He kept quiet while they washed the dishes and spent a lot of time thinking. 

He decided that he would have to  slip out of the house the next day so that he could get gifts for Dean; surely if Dean had gone through the trouble to decorate, he had gifts stashed away somewhere too.

“Open up.” Dean’s voice came from his right and Sam opened his mouth without thinking, letting Dean slip a cookie between his lips. He crunched through the sweetness and moaned at how good it tasted. He caught Dean watching his lips and made a deliberate sweep of his tongue to catch any crumbs, enjoying the way Dean’s eyes darkened as he watched. Sam felt his resolve falter; surely he could push the issue and make his move tonight? But as he leaned forward Dean took a step back and popped a cookie into his own mouth and Sam knew it would have to wait for another day.

“So what do you want to watch?” Sam asked, booting up his laptop and watching Dean wiggle himself into a comfortable place on his bed. It was an endearing movement, something that Dean had been doing since they were little; something that showed what a hedonist he really was. Sam was struck by inspiration then as to what he could get for Dean’s Christmas gift.

“C’mon, you even gotta ask? Christmas Vacation! Holiday rooooooooooooooooaaad.” Sam burst out laughing as he searched and then queued up the movie before settling into his own spot on Dean’s bed.

“Wrong movie dude. That’s from Vacation.” He settled into his spot as the credits started and could feel Dean, a line of heat along the side of him. Their shoulders were shoved together uncomfortably and Sam squirmed a little until he was low enough on the bed for Dean to sling his arm around his neck. Sam pushed himself as close as he dared to, which ended up with him doing everything except slinging his leg over Dean’s. Their feet tangled together and he could feel the solid, life affirming ‘thump-thump-thump’ of Dean’s heart next to his head.

Sam tried to watch the movie, he really did, but before Rusty and Clark were even home from the mall, his eyes were closed. The next thing he knew, Dean was laughing softly at the way Todd and Margo were screaming at each other on screen. He cuddled even closer, this time bringing his leg up and slinging it over Dean’s, huddling into the warmth radiating out from Dean’s body.

He felt Dean tense for a moment but waited, not moving. Dean hugged him closer with the arm that was now around his back and shifted to press a kiss into Sam’s hair. He smiled into Dean’s chest and let himself drift back off.

In the morning, they had barely moved. Dean had slumped down so they were both lying down but they were still wrapped around each other. Sam took a moment to look at his brother carefully. The lines around his eyes were more prominent than they used to be, his lips a little wrinkled where they used to be barbie doll plump, but he was still perfection. He was, in fact, more attractive to Sam looking like this than he’d been at 21 when he was every teenagers vision of a wet-dream. Because those lines showed how much he’d endured and survived through. The slight wrinkles were proof that he was still here and not some picture perfect image in Sam’s head.

“You were always a cuddly octopus in bed.” Sam looked up to see Dean’s eyes were open and he was smiling down at where Sam’s arms and legs were wrapped around him. Sam laughed a little, holding back a groan at the way their bodies rubbed together with the movement.

“Cmon little brother, lets get up.” His actions betrayed his words, however, as Dean scratched his fingers through the sweaty hair on the back of Sam’s head. Sam closed his eyes on pleasure at the feeling of it and he felt Dean press a kiss to his forehead and grin. Something felt delicate here. Precarious.

Dean scratched harder and tugged at the strands between his fingers, making Sam arch his back and moan. He pressed into Dean’s hand asking for more while he rubbed his morning wood on Dean’s thick thigh taking without asking.

“Always knew you had some kinda hair kink, Sammy, or you’d never keep it this long.” Even as he joked he tugged more, giving into the pleas from Sam’s body.

Sam hiked his leg up higher across Dean’s thighs and pressed his cock tighter to Dean’s hip. The friction felt so good even with two layers of denim between them. Sam’s lips parted on a moan as Dean found a particularly sensitive spot on his scalp. He could feel sweat prickling at his temples and on his neck but he didn’t want to stop. Stopping was the farthest thing from his mind. He adjusted his leg again and felt the thick, hot line of Dean’s cock where it was trapped in his jeans and Dean froze, for only a second but it was enough to break the precariousness of the moment.

“C’mon Sammy. I’ll cook, you make coffee.” With that, Dean rolled himself out of Sam’s embrace and off the bed onto the floor. Sam snickered and peeked over the edge of the bed at Dean swearing and rubbing the hip he’d landed on. 

Sam’s eyes followed Dean as he moved around the kitchen making them breakfast. Dean always looked so competent and confident, no matter what he was doing, and the domesticity of making breakfast in bare feet the and the previous days clothing clenched at Sam’s heart. He loved his brother with everything he had and sometimes even more. It was so big, this feeling. So overwhelming even after years of fighting it and more years of having accepted it.

Dean went to the garage, again, to give the impala a tune-up and Sam took the chance to escape into town. He didn’t know what he was going to get for Dean, but he knew that this year, and every other year they had together, it wouldn’t be from a gas station or a mini-mart.

He bought wrapping paper, tape, scissors and candy at a Walgreens before wandering around town and ducking into any store he thought might have something Dean would enjoy before stopping at the supermarket and picking up something for dinner. He pulled off to the side of the road and wrapped his gifts before heading back to the bunker with them safely tucked under the seat in the car he’d taken from the bunker’s store of classic cars.

“I’m not as good of a cook as you but I got some stuff to make dinner for us.” He yelled as he got out of the car. Dean’s grease covered hand came up from under baby’s hood in a thumbs up. Sam laughed as he lugged the groceries through the garage and into the kitchen, getting everything assembled on the counter to make homemade meatballs with spaghetti. The cherry pie he’d bought from the bakery he put on a plate and in the center of the library table. The breakfast pastries he’s picked up he hid on top of the fridge in hopes that Dean wouldn’t find them before the morning.

Dean sat back in his chair with a groan and a hand on his taut belly. “Man, Sammy, if i’d’a known you could cook like that i’d’a made sure that you cook dinner every once in a while. I like cooking for you, but it’s nice to have a night off. Thanks.” Dean nudged his foot against Sam’s under the table and just that little touch, and Dean’s complimentary words, had his whole body thrumming with excitement.

“You sure you got room for pie?” Sam gestured at the untouched cherry pie with a smirk and a nudge of his own foot at Deans.

“Pffft, Sammy, there’s always room for pie.” Dean groaned as he leaned forward in his chair to reach for it. Sam watched with an indulgent but happy smile on his face as Dean had the equivalent of two big pieces of pie before sitting back again.

“Wanna do one gift tonight?” Sam asked, arms full of dirty dishes.

“Mmm, yeah.” Dean answered sleepily and Sam dropped the dishes off in the kitchen before ducking out to retrieve the gift that would top the night off right.

He handed the unwrapped bottle of New Holland Zepplin Bend whiskey across the table and got a thrill from watching the way Deans eyes lit up in excitement. He ripped off the band and pulled out the cork, his cheeks flushing with pleasure as he smelled the open bottle.

“Oh good goddamn you are the best little brother ever. You’re  gonna help me drink this, right?” Sam laughed, a light happy sound that rang through the room as he held our two rocks glasses.

“Pour Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean  laughed and poured two healthy shots for each of them. Sam sat and they clinked their glasses in a silent toast, each of them taking a sip and turning to look at the Christmas tree.  After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Sam turned towards Dean.

“This was a good idea Dee.” Dean turned and gave him a soft smile, the one that Sam referred to as “his”. Dean only ever smiled like that for him. There was no hint of sarcasm of self-deprecation only a soft, sweet smile of happiness.

“You haven’t called me Dee for a while.” Sam took a large swallow of the good whiskey in his glass, sighing when it didn’t burn on the way down but went down smooth.

“Well, yeah, I guess I haven't.” He set his glass on the table and looked into Dean’s eyes. “You wanna watch a movie?” He watched Dean pretend to think about it. “I can go get it set up and you can go get me the gift that I can open tonight?”

“Sounds good Sammy. Grab the bottle. I’mma hit the can then grab your gift and I’ll meet you in your room.”

Sam had his laptop on his knees and the bottle of whiskey on his bedside table when Dean finally showed up. The gift he held out was even wrapped, which he wasn’t expecting but was a nice surprise. He put his laptop down and ripped off the paper, too excited to try and play it cool. A coffee cup with a plaid printed moose and the words “merry christmoose” printed on it stared up at him from the remnants of the wrapping paper. His face froze, unsure if he wanted to be annoyed or amused.

“Awww Sammy, don’t be like that. Look, it’s a dumb gift but I saw it in that Cracker Barrel we stopped at a few weeks ago and it was the thing that made me wanna do this whole Christmas for you.” Dean’s actually pouting now, just slightly, but the effect is marred by the fact that Sam can tell he wants to laugh.

Truth be told, Sam wants to laugh too. So, for the first time in a lot of years, he laughs himself stupid at his brother’s immature sense of humor. No bitchface, no puppy dog eyes, nothing but pure bright laughter. Tears well up in his eyes at the stupidity of it and when he hears Dean’s answering laugh, he starts to laugh harder. He can’t stop. It feels good. It feels necessary. Dean flops down onto the bed next to him and they spend a truly unnecessary amount of time laughing themselves stupid.

“You’re such a jerk.” Sam finally squeaks out as he wipes the tears from his eyes. He looks again at the hideous mug and knows that it will always be his favorite. He’s going to drink his coffee from it every morning.

“Whatever bitch. Start the movie.” Dean has wiggled himself into place next to Sam, just as close at the night before. Sam pulls his laptop close and hits enter to start Batman Returns, his insides thrilling at the sound of Dean’s gasped “fuck yeah” when the movie starts.

“Remember going to see this in the theater?” He asks Dean before knocking back another sip of damn fine whiskey.

“Hell yeah. You were scared for weeks and all I wanted to do was think more about Michelle Pfeiffer in that vinyl catsuit. Me-ow” 

Sam feels giggles bubble up through his lips again but doesn’t reply, already sucked into the movie. He wasn’t scared for the reason that Dean thought he was anyway. The Penguin isn’t scary; Christopher Walken is. By the time the movie ends they're both still awake but barely and Sam is loathe to let Dean leave. He glances at Dean from the corner of his eye, noticing the droopy eyelids and the flushed face from the alcohol. Before Dean has a chance to react, Die Hard is playing and Sam snuggles himself even closer and closes his eyes, breathing in the scents of Dean and their home.

Christmas morning starts much like the morning before. Sam is tucked right up to Dean’s side and mostly wrapped around him. His nose is wedged in Dean’s armpit and his leg is slung across Dean’s. It’s simultaneously the most comfortable and the most uncomfortable he’s been in years. He twists and stretches slightly, tilting his head up to see that Dean is awake and watching him.

“Merry Christmas little brother.” Dean’s voice is quiet and soft in a way that it rarely is, except when he’s talking to Sam.

Sam takes the moment to stretch again, wiggling on the bed, and Dean, until their faces are lined up and they’re looking into each other’s eyes and breathing the other’s stale sleep-and-whiskey breath. He wants to lean forward and capture those lips with his own. He wants to drown in the green eyes. He wants to run his fingers through soft, sleep messed hair. Sam wants so much.

“Merry Christmas Dee.” He sighs softly instead. He doesn’t know what would happen if he tried any of the things he wants. He doesn’t know if Dean would kiss him back or roll off the bed and storm away. All of the things he doesn’t know vanish in a whisp of thought when Dean presses forward to skim his lips against Sam’s.

Sam’s speechless and lightheaded. He knows the shock is showing on his face but he can’t stop it. He also can’t stop the way his lips turn up in a smile so deep that he can feel the dimples in his cheeks. He returns the brush of lips, pushing just a little bit harder before pulling back. Dean’s hand moves up his back, cupping the back of his neck briefly before his fingers work their way into Sam’s hair like they did yesterday morning. This time, though, the scratching and tugging is accompanied by gentle pressure that brings his face close to Dean’s again.

The kiss, for there is no mistaking that it is a kiss this time, lingers. It’s still just dry lips to dry lips, no tongue, but it’s the sweetest and most perfect kiss that Sam has ever had. They press impossibly closer until Sam gives up, swinging his leg over Dean’s hips and sits on top of him while Dean’s hand never leaves his head.

With new leverage, Sam finally breaks the stalemate of dry kisses and barely parts his lips when they’re pressed to Dean’s this time. Dean’s lips part like a dream and suddenly, everything goes from slow-motion to blurry-fast movement.

Dean’s hands are everywhere at once, skimming down Sam’s sides and palming over his ass in his day-old jeans. His fingers stroke and pluck at Sam’s nipple through his shirt causing Sam to break the kiss so that he can press into Dean’s touch and gasp for air.

“Sammy.” Dean’s murmur of his name is worshipful and Sam thinks he will never get tired of hearing his name from Dean’s lips like that. Sam ducks back down for more kisses, this time obscenely sucking on Dean’s tongue in a parody of what he’d like to do to the cock currently rocking against his thigh.

“Clothes. Dean I wanna… I need you.” Sam is already unbuttoning the plaid shirt he’d fallen asleep in before he’s done talking. The yanks it down off his arms and tosses it to the floor beside the bed, looking at Dean in his henley and shuddering. He bites a kiss into Dean’s neck, his fingers scrabbling to find the bottom of the thin shirt so he can pull it up and off.

“Wait, Sammy, wait.” Dean gasps. Sam has the shirt pulled half-way up Dean’s torso, exposing all of his muscular stomach to Sam’s hungry gaze and it’s not enough. But Dean’s words penetrate through the haze of lust and suddenly he feels cold. Dean doesn’t want this; want him. He starts to retreat off the end of the bed, unwilling to stay in the room a moment longer and though the haze of horror and sadness he’s feeling, he forgets that it’s his room. He’s almost off the bed when two strong hands haul him back up until he’s looking in Dean’s lust-blown eyes.

“I didn’t say stop baby boy, I said wait. I just” Dean breaks their gaze and scratches at the back of his neck with one hand, the other clamped on Sam’s thigh as though Sam might vanish if Dean wasn’t holding him in place. “I wanna make it special, you know? Not first thing in the morning with stale whiskey breath and… are you laughing at me?” Dean sputtered indignantly as Sam smiled and fought back another case of the giggles.

“And you’re always calling me a girl. I’m not some teenage girl you gotta romance. I’m not some wilting flower.” Sam pushed even closer, the bulge of his cock clear in his jeans as he writhed against his brother, showing him just how non-girly he is. “I want it hard and fast and rough. We’ve waited long enough, right? Hard and fast and rough and a little bit dirty sounds just like what I wanted for Christmas.”

Dean groaned at that but when he looked up he was smiling. “A little bit dirty. I’m your big brother, how much dirtier can it get?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Sam asked with a patented Dean Winchester smirk on his face. His hands fell to the button of his jeans. “The answer to the question will be revealed for a price. And the price is you getting naked right the fuck now, big brother.”

Clothes flew around the room as they laughed and growled and tackled each other until they were both naked, panting and back in the position that started it all; Dean on his back and Sam sitting across his crotch. This time, Dean’s hard cock was pressed into the cleft of Sam’s ass and Sam couldn’t stop wiggling back into it, making his dick bounce up and down.

“So, Sammy, I think you were going to tell me how this could get dirtier.” Dean’s voice had gone husky and deep making Sam’s nipples tighten with excitement. Sam rolled his entire body from the shoulders down, undulating on Dean’s lap better than any professional lap dancer.

“Well first, I was thinking about sucking that big cock into my throat while you open me up with your tongue and fingers.” Dean grunted and rocked his hips up, the wet tip of his cock leaving behind a trail on Sam’s ass cheek. “Hmm, you like that? Okay, well, big brother, I know how orally fixated you are, so I thought that would be a nice way to start. Then, I’ll give you some lube and we can find out just how many of your fingers can fit in my ass.”

“Sammysammysammy yes.” Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head and he shivered. Sam smiled and leaned down close enough that his lips brushed the shell of Dean’s ear as he spoke.

“And then, Dean, when you’re so close to coming that you can’t breathe. When your dick is hard enough to pound nails and leaking like a faucet. When your nipples are red and tight from me sucking on them, then, you’ll fuck me bare and come inside me. Wanna feel you leaking out of me all day. Wanna have you make me walk bow-legged. Cause you’re gonna pound my sweet, tight ass. Never had another dick in it. My fingers. My toys, and maybe someday I’ll let you watch while I fuck myself with a vibrating dildo, huh? But no other dick has ever had me. No one else’s come has ever been inside me like yours will be.” Sam had more to say, he was sure of it, his words were turning him on as much as they were turning Dean on, but he got cut off by the world spinning and suddenly he was looking up at Dean from the flat of his back.

“Mine, sammy? No one else but me, right? This is my ass, isn’t it baby boy?” He palmed one of the globes of Sam’s ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough that it should hurt but all Sam could feel was Dean leaving his mark like a brand on his skin. He groaned, long and low, as Dean lifted both his legs and slung them over his shoulders before going belly-down on the mattress between Sam’s spread legs and going to town as thought he was a dying man and Sam’s asshole was his last meal.

Sam lost track of time while Dean rimmed him, his eyes rolling back from the pleasure of it. He gave a whimpery mental apology to every girl he’d hated because of the way they’d trailed after his brother; if he was this good eating ass he was probably out-of-this-world at eating pussy. And those girls, and no other girl, would ever have that mouth but him.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fuck Sammy’s ass was perfection. Pink and tight and warm and drawing him back in every time he tried to pull away. Dean had an actual cramp in his tongue and his chin was all covered in spit and he couldn’t even fucking care. The mouth on his baby brother, saying all those wonderfully nasty things. Winding him up like that. He pulled back for a fraction of a second, to suck a finger into his mouth before pressing it inside of Sam next to his tongue.

There was a mantra going through his head on an endless loop “mine- no one else’s”. Ever since Sam mentioned that no other dick had ever been inside his perfect pink ass, Dean had become a little crazed. But it tasted so good and it felt so good. His dick was weeping into the sheets beneath him, the wetspot spreading everytime he rocked his hips to get a better angle. He’d always gotten so wet, like a girl almost, that he couldn’t want to see what happened when he was filling up this virgin hole. He wanted to see it leak back out. He wanted to eat it back out. He wanted everything Sam had told him in that filthy voice and more.

“Oh Fuck Sammy.” Dean groaned into Sam’s flesh, only pulling away when he felt Sam start to shake.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Dean.” Sam laughed at him, stomach tensed as he sat up to look down at Dean.

“Well fuck, if you can still laugh at me, I must not be doing something right. C’mon Sammy. Lube and up on all fours now.” Dean swiped his unoccupied hand across his chin, wiping off the saliva never letting up on the steady in-out-twist he had going with his fingers in Sam’s ass. He watched Sam fling his arm out, banging it into the bedside table as he blindly searched for the drawer pull. He rummaged for only a moment before a tube of lube was being tossed at Dean’s head.

“Ohhh, you like the good stuff, huh baby boy? You buy this special for your plastic toys and that big dick?” Now that it was unoccupied, Dean couldn’t seem to stop running his mouth, a constant stream of filth coming out and cranking both of them higher.

Dean fumbled the cap open and drizzled it into his palm, tilting it up at the last minute so the warming, silicone based lube rolled down his fingers and right into the tiny gape of Sam’s hole. Sam’s entire body shuddered as the warming sensation hit him and he fucked his ass down onto Dean’s fingers.

Dean slapped his ass and couldn’t stop his smile when Sam yelped at the sensation.  “I said hands and knees. Twist around and keep my fingers inside you.” Sam did as he was told, twisting and wiggling around on the bed until he was panting but up on his hands and knees and presented to Dean, never having let Dean’s fingers move. As soon as Sam was in position, Dean let go, quickly pressing his middle and ring fingers inside and thrusting back and forth, hard enough that the webbing between his fingers started to hurt each time he banged it against Sam’s skin.

“Dean, enough, nownownownow.” Sam’s head was shaking back and forth, where it hung low between his shoulders. His biceps were trembling and his entire torso was a pretty shade of pink. Reluctantly, Dean pulled his fingers out of the sucking pressure of Sam’s insides to slick himself up. He had to count to ten in Latin to make sure that he didn’t come at the first touch of his own hand.

He kneed up closer on the bed and pressed the tip to Sam’s hole. Gritting his teeth against the urge to fuck forward into that hot, tight place that belonged to only him, he pressed forward slowly.

“Oh fuck that. Fuck me Dean.” Sam grunted and snarled at him but Dean refused to move any faster. He was about half way inside when the world flipped around. Suddenly he was on his back, Sam crouched above him, grabbing his cock to line it up again and sinking down onto it fast and hard.

“If you wont fuck me like I want it, Dean, I’ll take what I want.” Sam growled again and damn, if it wasn’t the hottest thing Dean had ever heard in his life. Sam set a brutal pace and Dean could do no more than to hold onto Sam’s hips and hope he wouldn’t embarrass himself by coming too quickly.

“Damn Dee, such a big cock. Fills me up so good.” Sam was bouncing so fast that his hair was flying all around his face. Dean was mesmerized but only for a moment before he let go of one of Sam’s hips to wrap his fist around his dick.

“C’mon Sammy. Come for big brother. Shoot all over me.” Dean whined, stroking Sam’s cock fast and hard like Sam seemed to like for everything. “Next time, we are gonna do this slow, you hear me? I’m gonna fuckin take my time. I’m gonna go so slow that you’re gonna lose your mind and the only things that you are gonna be able to say are my name and fucking please.”

Sam swiveled his hips in a wicked move that had Dean’s eyes crossing before his body clenched up and he bore down on Dean’s cock. His dick spurted all the way up to Dean’s neck, covering his torso in warm come. Dean let Sam’s body pull his own orgasm from him, finally letting go as he came hard inside of Sam.

Sam slumped over and rested his forehead on Dean’s shoulder while they both caught their breath. Dean could feel himself soften and begin to slip out of Sam’s abused hole, but Sam made a whiny noise and clenched around his cock, keeping it where it was.

“Baby boy, you gotta let me go sometime.”

“Wanna keep it inside me.” Sam whined, clenching tighter as gravity and the come and lube inside of him began to force Dean’s cock out. He flopped out an arm toward the still open dresser drawer, fumbling for a moment before he closed his fist around whatever he was looking for. He placed it in Dean’s hand.

“Plug me up?  Wanna keep your come in me right now. See how many loads I can fit inside today.” Dean looked down at the clear glass butt plug in his hand and felt his face warm, despite all the kinky things they’d just said and done, putting a plug in Sam’s hole seemed somehow over the top. He opened his mouth to object or tell Sam to do it but caught a glimpse of Sam’s face before he could utter a word.

Sam was looking at him with such trust, love and devotion in his eyes tha Dean couldn’t have said no to anything Sam asked at that moment, no matter what. He shifted them around a little so that he could reach and quickly replaced his soft cock with the sizeable plug. Sam whimpered when he pushed it in, but wiggled happily once it was seated. Dean felt around the edge of it with his fingers, pressing on the end a few times to feel the full body shiver it produced in Sam before he uncurled and lay down on his back, pulling Sam to rest on his chest.

“Best. Christmas. Ever.” He sighed, pressing a kiss to Sam’s sleep-slack lips before he let himself drift off for a Christmas morning nap.


End file.
